Does anyone else marvel at the beauty of words?

The texture on the tongue

The sound, rising and falling

It's beautiful

 

I find it to be a precious gift

Unequal to any other

Akin to Van Gogh and Mozart

Extraordinary

 

Sentences sway in elaborate dances

Some gentle

Some flushed with passion

Incredible

 

It has become a physical pain to watch

As such perfection is destroyed

By vulgarity, by greed, by violence

Does anyone else grieve as did the historians in WWI?

 

I see no need to waste a gift given

Meant for communication and peace

To uphold the basic moral of life

Yet, even with all injurious actions,

 

Literature is still lovely